


Sam is Intrigued

by HARTandSOLwrites (doomedpassion2yaoi)



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Internal Monologue, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 05:16:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5404412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomedpassion2yaoi/pseuds/HARTandSOLwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title says it all.</p><p>Set some time after Antman and Falcon's fight.</p><p>Most of this is an internal monologue.  There are intervals in the story where Sam's thoughts are interrupted.</p><p>2nd chapter in progress</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sam is Intrigued

Sam is intrigued.

He glances up at the sky. He still cannot fathom what the hell has happened. He has just been thoroughly thrashed, and that does not happen, especially not with his combat training in the army _and_ working out with the Tasha and Steve. Hell, they’ve brought wonder boy back from the wilds together and dished up on Hydra. Mind you they’ve done it together, even if he – Sam – was the only squishy human on the (unauthorized strike) team.

He groans. Playing guard at the training facility while the others are gone has made him soft. That has to be it. That kid can’t be that good, can he?

Just who is that kid? There has to be more than “Hi-I’m-Scott” and “a-big-fan”. Well, other than the fact that he can pack a mean punch and can shrink and grow.

The kid is rather pretty. Okay, so kid is pushing it a bit, since he’s about twenty-something or thirty. That’s a couple years younger than himself. It still doesn’t give him much to work with: pretty twenty-something or thirty year old white boys is a huge demographic.

One sniff later, Sam determines that the kid is an omega, who’s already gone. How interesting. He better keep that to himself. There’s potential there. Lots of potential. If he lets out that he was beaten by a rogue Omega, he’ll be the laughing stock. But more worrying is that other single Alphas on the team will take notice. And then there is his ability. He’ll be good for reconnaissance and the strike team. He wants that for his strike team.

He stalks back inside.

When he checks the security feed to analyze each frame to see where he’d gone wrong, he realizes the kid has pieced with one of the inventions in the Howard Stark collection – though there is some dispute over whose oeuvre that piece of tech belongs: in his notes, Stark Sr. claims that the device was a collaboration between him and Dr. Henry Pym. But Pym Industries’ records deign it to be the sole creation of Dr. Pym himself.

And, Sam, he is determined not to get in the crossfire of that. Not that he thinks Stark Jr. cares any about that kind of thing.

Either way that the kid has actually pieced with the piece is a mark of the marvelous and the dangerous. He is definitely someone to watch. He could be an up-and-coming minor villain or some punk kid testing himself against the Avengers. He can’t wait to see what he does next, just so he can be there to pick his ass up off the street either for rehab or jail time. It’s not because he wants to meet the kid again – and not just for rematch. (Down boy. He glares at his crotch. He is _not_ an Alpha knothead.) Or, even to offer him a place on the superhero squad. That’s got to be discussed by the board aka the originals: Steve, Stark, Nat, Barton, Doc Banner and Thor.

He really wants that last one.

He has it bad doesn’t he? He wipes a hand down his face. He is so screwed.

He switches on the TV and there it is. Cross Industries disappears off the face of the planet just as it explodes – stranger than normal – and a house nearby is demolished. Is that an oversized Thomas the Engine?

Well then… that kid is definitely packing it. But just how did he do that?

Either way, he likes it. Sam can’t stop the corners of his lips twitching upward.

He definitely wants that for his strike team.

“Hi-I’m-Scott” or the thief, as he later finds out, is Scott Lang. No wait, he calls himself a burglar, a former one.

And damn, he’s one them pretty boys with a redemption complex. But near every single one of us has that going on. Not that he’s blowing his own horn, he’s pretty good looking himself.

But Scott Lang is on a whole other level. Under that scruff, he’s rather androgynous. He’d definitely slide into that bod, if the kid’s alignment wasn’t so sketch. He sighs. Par for the course, he can’t be making all those comments when he himself has walked the dark side back in New York.

He, Sam that is, has not in a very long time been affected by just one meeting. The first was a Beta girl back in his gangster days. The second is…Riley.

Neither of those relationships – as one-sided as they were – have been any good. They both ended in disaster with the girl in a lifetime sentence (because Sam got cold feet or a case of returning morality) and with Riley shot dead.

He closes his eyes and tilts his head onto the back of the couch. He should get out of here. Once he gets the will to move.

It won’t do for the others –

Never mind. He can hear the footsteps that one particular super soldier makes sure to always broadcast, at least, on campus.

“Wilson.”

Sam groans. He isn’t in the mood for whatever the brunet wants to talk about.

And that’s fine because the kid – because despite his 70 years of captivity, he’s still only about twenty seven – is at the point where he’s gotten tired of the kiddie treatment he’s been receiving from everyone. He’s mostly stable now anyway and won’t freak out when people get too close or touch him. He also won’t panic when people leave him alone for long periods of time.

Depending on who you ask, it helps that his mate’s been found (though that has caused some issues with Stark Jr., Barton, an IMF agent (who at the time had gone dark with his team when they were suspected of treason – it is cleared up now and they’ve been reinstated) and a burned CIA agent (who as it turns out was on the run when the department that he worked for had gone rogue, riddled with Hydra, with Operation Outcome), and he – Sam – despite reservations is doing his best to help them. Family and couple’s therapy isn’t his specialty! He’s had to rope Bruce in even though he’s _not_ that kind of doctor. But what can they do?

Doc. Cho and Thor, yes, Thor or Doc. Blake are the only ones with actual medicine credentials. But what they do has nothing to do with psychology or social work. Sam scrubs a hand down his face, and pastes on a ill-fitting grin.

“Hey Buckaroo.”

The lost-and-found super soldier glares. “Don’t call me that.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Fuck off Barnes.”

“No.” The brunet frowns. “You said I could come to you if there were things I needed…”

“Yes, but not right now.”

“Why?”

Sam rubs at his temples. “Because I need to think.”

“But…”

“Look bad things happen to the people I care about…I’ve just started caring about someone I shouldn’t?”

“You wouldn’t be talking about your recommendation to our team would you Wilson?”

“Stark.”

“What? Pretty boy made a big impression on you,” Tony grins, “if you know what I mean.”

“Anthony.”

“Stark Sr.” Sam groans. “Jesus. I need some peace and quiet right now.”

“Should’ve stayed in your room then.” Tony Stark is far too cheerful.

And Sam wants to punch him in the face – and yeah he’d do it in front of the man-child’s parents. And isn’t that strange?

“Falcon, hey!”

Sam turns despite his best attempts not to react.

The kid has been invited to the compound officially as a recruit. He is carrying his helmet under his arm. With him is a dark haired woman that he recognizes from the news as Hope van Dyne, daughter of Doctor Henry Pym – and the rivalry-feud between Stark Sr. and Doc Pym is on the back burner for now, especially now that Doc. Pym is so much more established since Stark Sr.’s supposed death. They are the ones backing Scott’s – Sam should just stop right there. He has no right to be so familiar with the kid. Heck they’ve barely any maintained conversation with substance – stint as Ant-Man (and she’s the new Wasp).

The cute brunet walks until he’s in front of him. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for…um…beating you up the last time we met.”

He holds out his hand.

“Uh…” Sam swallows.

The pretty Omega wants to shake his hand and the Alpha in him salivates. He wipes his sweaty palm against his pants.

“You know? At meetings like these you’re supposed to take his hand and shake it?” Tony Stark’s signature obnoxiousness once again makes itself known.

And he gets a slap on the back of his head courtesy of his mother for it.

“The fuck was that for?” Drumroll please. Let it be known that Tony Stark is A-okay with cursing out his mother.

Yeah, like that’ll go over well on the news. But social media will eat it right up, not that Sam is cruel or irritated enough to do that. Well he is, but Friday will kick him in the balls with ice cold water during his shower for it. Any revenge plots also better not be in hearing range of either super soldier. His budding comradery with Steve, aside, if he so much as seems to be bullying Stark Jr, the Alpha will beat him within an inch of his life. He is ridiculously over protective of the omega. It’s as if they’re courting.

He gulps. Stark Jr.’s going to be unbearable, the smug little dick!

As if Steve can sense his uncharitable thoughts about their _kind_ host, he walks briskly toward him.

Sam puts his head in his hands. “Oh my god. I can’t handle your crazy ass friends. I’m going out.”

Damn it. He never shook the kid’s hand, now the kid’s going to think he’s rude. At least, he hadn’t slipped his hands into his pockets like some douchebag Alphas who think touching an Omega platonically _with respect_ is inappropriate.

He stalks over to the elevator, grunts at Friday and rides with her down to the parking lot. She doesn’t comment on his bad mood. She also doesn’t comment on Stark’s behaviour. He _is_ the boss, her creator.

As much as he’s not as big a fan of high speeds as Cap and Iron Man, he’s got a pretty swag road killer himself. He jumps in his reasonably silver car and screeches out the compound because right now, it’s time for some speed. Oh look! Is that the silver haired speedster running beside him?

He took his car to get some space from the explosion of personalities back there and now one of them is following him?

“Where’s your mama bird kid?” He raises a brow. “You got permission to come out at ass o’clock at night?”

“Mama didn’t see me coming.” The boy grins.

Sam rolls his eyes at the quip. But then his eyes widen horror because Clint Barton is testy on a regular basis when his babies disappear.

It’s even worse now that he’s pregnant. “Hawkass is going to flip his shit.”

“Wanda’ll take care of him and Agent Coulson.”

“Get in.” Sam slows and heads to the shoulder – because he’s not that interested in becoming flambé via flaming arrows, or a reverse porcupine via the pointy things sticking into his body thank you.

It’s at that time of night that the freeway is near deserted. “If I’m going to shout, I’d rather it be to the person beside me inside the car, not some kid on the side of the road.”

He coughs. “I can feel my throat tearing.”

“Sorry old man.” But the kid is laughing.

Sam imagines himself slamming his head against the steering wheel. It’s not like can. He can’t just stop in the middle of the freeway. There are crazy ass kids who think they can get away with drifting sometimes. He will be glad to be alive, and the kid next to him too. It’s less painful that way.


End file.
